Corruption
by wanderingselkie
Summary: Hermione Granger, an almost 30-year-old curse healer, is confronted with a patient afflicted with something she has never seen before.
1. Chapter 1: In Which Work Is Put First

**A/N: Ladies and gentlemen, yours truly is writing on an airplane. There is turbulence. Please excuse any spelling and/or grammar errors.**

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Hermione Granger was turning thirty in one week. She was so dismayed at this unfortunate fact that she had neglected to inform most of her colleagues and friends about it. The only people who knew were the Weasley family, and Harry.

For a witch, thirty was not old. Thirty was in the prime of youth, but Hermione, who had grown up and was still immersed in the muggle world, thirty was when every anti-aging campaign seemed to be directed at you personally.

Crookshanks meowed, startling Hermione out of her reached down to acknowledge her familiar's demands for love. Her small flat was lonely, bookish, simple, and secure. It was enough for her, but it occasionally seemed very lonely. Today was one of those days.

Her recently elevated position in St. Mungo's curses and hexes department allowed her to have sundays off. The one day a week to catch up on sleep, paperwork and bills was a godsend. Today, however, she simply had nothing to do. Being her practical, overachieving self, Hermione had paid all her bills, fed the cat, done laundry, cleaned until no speck of dust remained anywhere, and worked herself into a frenzy simply trying to find something to do. She glanced at the clock. It was only ten. She had a whole day ahead of her, with nothing to do. 'Take advantage of a lazy day. When was the last time you read a book?' said a little voice in her head, sounding suspiciously like Ginny Weasley. Hermione smiled and shook her head. Even her subconscious wanted her to have a relaxing day.

She put a kettle on the stove (she could have heated it with magic, but there were some things that just felt more proper when done the muggle way), wrapped herself in a soft knitted Weasley shawl, and perused the bookshelf. Many of the titles simply felt too romantic for her current life. She was single. Her relationship with Ron had fizzled out after they both realized the intellectual discrepancy between them. They were still fast friends, having grown up together, but she loved him like a brother, and he like a sister. She pulled a small, leather-bound volume off the shelf. _The Screwtape Letters_ by C.S. Lewis. She was in the mood for Lewis' wry, sarcastic humor. The tea boiled and she brewed herself a cup, tugged her shawl tighter around her shoulders, and settled down to waste a day in a demonic fantasy world.

Fifteen minutes into the book, she heard a tap at her kitchen window. Cursing under her breath, she dog-eared the page in her book and got up to go see who thought they were important enough to want her on her day off.

A small, tawny owl was fluttering outside her window. She let it in, grabbed a piece of bread to appease the small beast (honestly, Hermione _hated_ owls), and read the hastily scrawled missive tied to it's foot.

_Hermione,_

_Get here as fast as you can. There is an important patient with an unknown curse. We need your help._

_Phyllia Stewart_

Hermione sighed. Phyllia was a short, plump brunette woman, and when she talked, people listened. If she asked for Hermione, Hermione was needed.

Hermione checked to make sure that Crookshanks had enough food and water, and apparated to St. Mungo's. She took the stairs two at a time to the curses ward, and stopped at the stairs. The atmosphere was tense, worried, and much more silent than usual. Whispers of phrases drifted past her ears as she briskly walked to the nurses' station. "-broken an old family seal" "-searching for dark magic" "-somebody call his father". There, a chart was shoved into her hands and she was directed to the room of this cursed patient.

Phyllia was standing outside the door.

"Granger – I would tell you what we have on our hands but I don't know myself. Patient is thirty, male. 6'2", 170 lbs. He is afflicted with severe delusions, an extremely rapid heartbeat, and pain similar to victims suffering the cruciatus curse. I believe you two attended school together, and he also fought in the final battle."

"Which side?"

"Does it really matter, Granger? But if you must know. His in the beginning, ours at the end."

Hermione sighed. She disliked many former death eaters. Those who claimed to be reformed really weren't. She had found (though hadn't reported her findings to anyone else) that the dark mark faded with the growth of the person. If a former death eater had a significantly faded or no dark mark, she would believe them if they said that they had reformed. People like Anton Dolhov and Peter Pettigrew probably still had a black laceration on their arm, she would bet her salary on it.

She took a breath, and stepped into the room.

The patient was lying on the bed clad in navy blue boxers (the remnants of a hospital gown were scattered around the room), his pale blonde hair mussed and soaked with sweat. His brows were drawn together and as she watched, he screamed, arching his chest off the bed.

Draco Malfoy looked like a fallen angel.

Hermione had no idea where to start.

"What has been done to help him?"

One of the nurses shook her head.

"We waited for you, we didn't want to aggravate the condition."

Hermione cast a diagnostic spell and Draco's vitals floated in the air. Pulse, 180. Temperature, 101.3.

Waving her wand, she cast her custom-designed stasis spell (that had won her several awards for creativity). It had been designed for cases like this, where no one really knew what was going on but the patient was in severe pain.

Immediately, Draco's features softened, and he visibly relaxed.

Approaching closer to the bed, she muttered "ennervate"

Startling silver eyes snapped open and a hand reached out to roughly grab the front of her blouse.

"Stay away. I - let it escape. Everyone is in danger – the vaults, old magic, old spells..."

He lapsed back into unconsciousness.

"If he's not here already, someone needs to find Lucius. He knows more about dark magic than anyone I know, and he's Draco's father."

Nurses scurried out of the room. Hermione cast several spells, before casting one that would lay out a map of his internal organs and systems, allowing every inch of his body to be investigated.

His immune system was fine, his central nervous system was undamaged, his endocrine system was perfectly functional. She started at the bottom of the body. Leg muscles, testes, bladder, liver, pancreas, everything was fine. Hermione directed the spell to show her his upper body and head, and dropped her wand, startled and anxious.

There was what could only be described as a _blackness_, clenched around his heart, darkening his brain, and spreading through his mouth and eyes. She had never seen anything like it before, but she knew one thing for sure: It was most definitely new, and most likely fatal.

She picked up her wand and exited the room, praying her stasis field would hold whatever was inside Draco at bay.

Phyllia was standing outside.

"Has anyone found Lucius?"

Phyllia nodded. "He was at the manor, working himself in to a frenzy about his father. Apparently Draco was exploring some recently discovered older vaults in the manor when he became... Afflicted with this curse."

Hermione nodded an acknowledgement, and strode purposefully to the waiting room. She immediately saw Lucius sitting in a waiting room chair, his long blonde hair, now streaked with silver, tied back from his face. He lifted his head as the click of her shoes entered the room. His eyes were red-rimmed, he had obviously been crying.

"Mrs. Weasley, I presume?"

"Granger, actually. It's a common misconception. Now, if you would follow me, I need to speak with you about your son."

She led Lucius into a small room off to the side of the waiting area, shut the door, and drew the blinds.

"Please, Mr. Malfoy, have a seat."

Lucius sat, and she took a spot across from him.

"Mr. Malfoy, I don't know what is wrong with your son. What I saw when I examined him was a sort of – blackness around his heart, in his brain. It's spreading into his veins. I have no idea what this is, but I need to figure it out so we can try to save his life."

Lucius nodded.

"Mr. Malfoy, do you have any idea what Draco was doing at the time he was cursed?"

Lucius took a deep breath.

"Recently Draco and I discovered some previously unknown areas of the manor. They must have been opened when curse-breakers came to remove dark objects from the manor following Voldemort's death."

_'Interesting'_ Hermione mused, _'Not the Dark Lord, Voldemort.'_

"I gave him permission to try and break the seals on the vault, the curse-breakers assumed they were funeral vaults so they were left alone. They probably can only be opened by a Malfoy anyway. A lot of secrets in the manor are like that."

Hermione's opinion of lucius had not changed. As pretty as he was, _'Pretty? What?'_, his condescending tone and aristocratic better-than-thou air had not left him.

"He went off exploring alone, but I requested an elf accompany him. As you no doubt know, the secrets of the manor are not always kind. Tiffy took him to St. Mungos. I found out by owl."

"Mr. Malfoy, I know you may not find this permissible, but I need to see the vaults. I have curse-breaker and auror training, so I assure you I am not some naive chit walking to a dangerous situation."

Hermione had no idea where the little spitfire she was had come from. Something about Lucius set her on edge, made her senses sharper and made her very, very aware of herself.

"While that may be true, Ms. Granger, your lack of awareness of yourself is not very reassuring."

His eyes drifted to the neck of her (supposedly modest) blouse, and the rip in it exposing a great portion of her breasts to the world.

She blushed furiously red and cast a reparo.

"I do hope the rest of the nurses assigned to Draco's case do not make a habit of wandering around half nude."

"For your information, Mr. Malfoy, I am not a nurse. I am a senior level curse-breaker, and healer. Also, had I not been so worried about your son, I would have noticed my rather disheveled attire, which I assure you, was not thus when I arrived."

There was a long, palpable silence, in which the tension seemed to build to nearly unbearable heights.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, Lucius rolled his shoulders back.

"Indeed." he murmured.

"Ms. Granger, I would be pleased if you would accompany me to Malfoy manor to investigate the cause of Draco's ailment."

He offered her his arm, and she took it. As she was squeezed into the claustrophobic tube of side-along apparation, she had never been more confused.

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**A/N: This may be the longest chapter I have ever written. Ever. Hope you enjoyed! Review, please **:)** it feeds the bunnies and gets you chapters more quickly!**


	2. Chapter 2: In Which Mysteries Deepen

**A/N: The first half of this was also written on an airplane. I do apologize. Also, plot advancement AND a lemon! How cool is that?**

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They appeared in the majestic drawing room of Malfoy Manor. Hermione looked around, regarding the place where she had been tortured by Bellatrix Lestrange. The room had a dark feeling in it, and as she looked around, her vision went dark at the edges. All she could hear was the cruel, high laughter of Bellatrix, and her memories took presence over her vision.

"Ms. Granger, if you would follow me?"

She looked at Lucius, and while her eyes saw him, all her brain saw was the man who watched her writhe in pain on this very floor, the man who had done nothing about it.

She slowly backed away from him, her eyes never leaving his face. Her eyes darted around the room, searching for some possible chance of escape.

Lucius seemed to realize what had happened.

"Ms. Granger, there's nothing to be afraid of." he stepped forward. "Ms. Granger?" she was completely unresponsive. "Hermione?"

Her eyes focused on him. He extended his left arm and rolled up his sleeve, showing only the faintest trace of a Dark Mark.

Their eyes met, her eyes honey-brown orbs pooling with unshed tears, his silver beneath blonde brows, calmly reassuring.

She placed her hand in his and allowed herself to be led out of the room.

Lucius shut the large, heavy door.

"Ms. Granger, I apologize profusely for my actions. I should have remembered that actions during the war would make it an extremely unpleasant place for you to be. If I can get you anything, wine, water, something stronger?"

Hermione let her shoulders relax, taking deep, steady breaths.

_'this is the now, Hermione. It's safe here. Well, safer.' _

"We really should be exploring the cellar. I'm – fine."

"Alright then, Ms. Granger, if you would follow me."

As they wandered through a seemingly endless maze of gothic and baroque architectural wonder, Hermione let her brain wander. Her eyes fixed on the shimmer of grey in Lucius's long hair, his broad shoulders, filling out a suit-jacket that looked like it had been made for him. She shook her head slightly to clear it. It had been so long since she had felt anything for any man, that what she felt when looking at Lucius was probably just desperation, just animal desire. Yeah, that was it.

She was so deeply lost in her fog of thought that when Lucius abruptly stopped in front of a short, deeply stained door with iron fittings that she walked into him.

"Sorry. I was thinking."

"I often find that thinking is indeed better than the alternative. However, as much as I enjoy you this close, I need to un-ward this door."

Hermione stepped back, and watched as Lucius made a shallow cut on his hand with the teeth of his snake-headed walking stick, and pressed his palm against the door while murmuring, "serpens aperit*." The door swung silently inward.

"Did Draco oil the hinges on this door? Or am I approaching this from far too much of a detective standpoint?"

"House elves maintain even the rooms this far down. If we encounter any more metal hinges beyond the door, which is doubtful, they, I assure you, will squeak."

Hermione nodded, and followed Lucius through the door, wondering what could possibly be inside the cellar that would injure someone as grievously as Draco had been.

It was dark, dusty, and smelled like mold. Hermione and Lucius simultaneously lit their wands. Lucius led the procession through the narrow, crypt-like tunnel. After several paces through the corridor, it opened up into a large, circular room with six doors spaced equally around it. A globular bluebell flame floated at the top of each door, casting pale shadows throughout the room. Hermione placed a marking spell on the door they had entered from, and shut it. Immediately, all the lights, including their wands were extinguished.

"Mr. Malfoy?" Hermione whispered.

"Given the circumstances I believe it would be perfectly appropriate to use my given name." Said a dry voice from somewhere to her left. Had she not been so damn scared, she would have chuckled. The man had a wry sense of humor.

"So … Lucius … what do we do now?"

In answer to her question, he opened the marked door at their backs and the lamps and their wands re-lit. They exchanged a significant glance. Lucius shut the door and they were once again plunged into total blackness.

"Weird." Said Hermione.

"Indeed."

Feeling her way along the damp stone wall, Hermione came to the next door, reached down, and twisted the handle. The door opened with an ominous creak.

"That's more like it. Every mildly creepy place should have squeaky doors." stated Hermione smugly.

"I agree wholheartedly," came the sarcastic reply, "But what's inside?"

Steeling herself, Hermione pushed the door open.

The small room was also circular, and had a pentacle drawn in the middle of it. Around the room were shelves almost overflowing with bottles.

Hermione took a step back, causing her to run into the bookshelf behind her. Only Lucius' quick reflexes saved a small bottle from shattering on the cold stone.

Hermione let out a breath she didn't know she had been holding.

"We need to leave this room." said Lucius. "First of all, I know nothing about it. Nowhere in the manor's history is described a room used for the pagan cousins of the dark arts. Hopefully one of the other five rooms will contain some instruction as to what this room is used for, and what it houses."

Hermione shrugged. "Might as well. But I wonder..."

Her hand went to uncork one of the bottles.

Smooth alabaster fingers gripped her wrist sharply.

"Stop." It wasn't a request. It was a cold, sharp command. Hermione's hand reflexively withdrew. "You have no idea what could be in that bottle. You ignorant chit, it could be a demon, a spirit, a spell or even..." he trailed off.

"A curse." Hermione finished. "Draco was here."

"Until there is a better explanation, that is what we're assuming."

They very, very carefully left the room. Lucius held the door, as Hermione went to the next one. She opened it and a sliver of honey-golden light spilled out. Lucius shut his door and followed her into the second room.

The light seemed to have no source, it was simply ambient, spilling out of the walls, the floor, and the edges of the center table. It bathed Hermione and Lucius in golden light, illuminating Lucius's shining hair and Hermione's doe eyes. It was warm, safe, inviting them to step forward to the table and sample it's proffered goods. On the table rested a goblet, a short, jeweled belt-knife, and a scroll. Prompted by some external sensation, Hermione reached for the scroll, and unfurled it. More golden motes of light diffused from it, drifting lazily through the air in swirls reminiscent of dust caught in a sunbeam.

Two large circles detached from the swarm of light and came toward Hermione and Lucius. They hovered in front of the duo and seemed to study them, before hovering toward their hearts, and sinking into their chests.

Hermione was suffused with a feeling she had never felt before, a warm, all-over tingling. She turned toward Lucius as he faced her. They were drawn towards each other, her hands twining around his neck as his placed on her waist. Their lips met and it felt as natural as breathing. To think that she had known this man so long and had not yet thought to do this was astonishing. It was the most wonderful sensation in the world.

Something felt unfinished, though. She had a sensation that there was something left she had to do. Resting her palm on the flat of Lucius' chest, she pulled away from him, elicting a quiet groan. She once again approached the table and knew, then, what she had been prompted to do.

"Lucius..." She whispered, and he was beside her in an instant, realizing, like she had, that there was something unfinished to do. He picked up the knife and making a small cut on his palm. Hermione followed suit and they clasped their hands over the goblet, their intermingled blood dripping into what was not an empty goblet, but was full of some honey colored liquid, the same shade as the peaceful gold light of the room. Together the lifted the goblet and drank from it in turn. The liquid gold ambrosia that somehow tasted like Lucius and smelled like her perfume glided over her tongue, overwhelming her with heady emotion. Lucius and Hermione practically fell to the gold-cushioned floor.

He held her face tenderly in his hands as he kissed her, drunk on passion. She pressed herself closer to him, needing to be closer to him. She yearned for that soul-baring, intimate contact of lovers. His lips, rough around the edges with stubble, found her cheek, her neck, planting barely there kisses down the line of one side of her neck and up the other, along her jawline, his warm breath tickling her ear.

His lips found their way back to hers, covering her mouth as he twined a hand into her unruly hair (which had come free of its braid). She parted her lips as he gently tugged on her hair, running his hand through it's textured strands.

Hermione's small hands deftly unbuttoned his shirt, exposing his pale, but defined chest, Broad shoulders with lines of muscle wrapping around to toned biceps. She ran her fingers through the sprinkling of blonde hair on his chest.

Their eyes met and she was drawn back to his mouth, startled by the sudden cold and contact as he wordlessly disrobed them.

She could care less, however, as her emotions short-circuited her brain. Lucius' hands roamed over her back, wrapping around her waist and clutching her to his chest. His hands drifted to her small breasts, palming them as he kissed her deeper, rolling his hips against hers in a desperate plea for more friction.

Hermione felt Lucius' erection pressing against her core and she slid down his body, kissing a trail down to his waiting cock. Her initial thought was complete astonishment and concern at the size, but she soon forgot and bent to kiss the tip. Lucius's hips bucked up, and then lay still. She sent moist breath across the head of his cock and then gently took it into her mouth, drawing her lips and tongue across a texture like warm silk.

"Merlin, witch..." Lucius hissed.

He reached down and grabbed her hand, pulling her up his body to once again delve into the wellspring of passion. Placing his hands on her hips, he positioned himself at her entrance and slid into her welcoming heat.

Hermione had never felt so full, so satisfied. It was as if her entire body had been waiting for this. She slowly began to rise and fall, sliding her tight, wet, heat up and down the entire length of Lucius' cock. With a primal growl, he flipped them over, pinning Hermione's hands above her head and throwing her legs over his shoulders, taking advantage of her long, loose hamstrings to press himself as deeply inside of her as possible.

Lucius began fucking her in earnest, driven by nothing but the desire to be closer to this woman. His deep, fast strokes soon worked Hermione into a frenzy and she moaned and threw her head back, exposing a long line of smooth skin that he licked and nipped.

Every stroke hit her g-spot, a myth she hadn't believed until this moment. She felt a build of tension inside her, an amazing spiraling feeling of lust and pleasure, until, when she finally thought she could withstand it no longer, Lucius' thrusts became harder, and erratic, and the change in rhythm drove her over the edge, her walls clenching Lucius' cock in spasms of pleasure as she screamed out her name. He quickly followed her, spilling hot semen deep inside her.

They shared a tender kiss, detangling sweaty limbs and rearranging them into a peaceful sleep, reassured by the golden light that there was no urgency, no need to hasten away.

As they slept, the spirit Astarte looked on in pleasure, dimming the golden glow of the trap that these two souls had fallen into.

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**A/N: Bahahahahaha! Review, please :) Constructive criticism will be incorporated and flames will be used to cook hamburgers.**


	3. Chapter 3: In Which they are In Danger

**A/N: Bahahaha. I swear, I'm done with cliffhangers for now. Maybe not. That's how I write. In other news, I'm thinking of taking this story and turning it into an actual novel. It's a good plot. With removal of the magic and some figuring out of 'muggle' medical practice it could probably be a pretty decent book. Hmm. I'll keep you posted. Enjoy the new chapter.**

Hermione awoke and opened her eyes to the sight of an ivory chiseled chest, gently rising and falling with the sound of gentle snores. She almost fell back asleep, lulled into contentment by the warmth and closeness of her lover's body. Then she woke up, accioed her clothing, and when dressed, slapped Lucius sharply across the face.

His stormy grey eyes flew open. "What in God's name-?"

Just like Hermione, Lucius was fully conscious before he realized he was nude.

"Spill, Lucius. I never in my right mind would have done... that with you! You must have drugged me, cursed me, I can't fight off an imperio so you could have done that – shame on you, you lecherous old man, for taking advantage of an innocent woman! I can't believe this happened... Why would -"

"Miss Granger." Lucius said cooly, his emphasis on her surname and unmarried title unmistakable, "I was not aware that the world had gotten so rude as to accuse first and ask questions second. I am not, as you so quaintly put it, a lecherous old man. I did not 'take advantage' of you. From what I recall, you were just as willing and passionate as I, although the occurrence was rather abrupt, leading me to infer that it was not entirely either of our faults."

Hermione took a deep breath. Now that he mentioned it, the room did not hold as much of a comforting air as it had before. It seemed much less golden, far more dark and menacing. She approached the altar, this time of her own free will, not bound by a mythical compulsion. She picked up the scroll haphazardly laying across the stone and read it.

_Per meus cruor ego tribuo myself vobis , ut vos tribuo vestri ut mihi per cruor of vestri pectus pectoris._

"I give myself to you, as you give yourself to me with the blood of your heart." She translated, and paled.

There, lying on the counter was a golden goblet, with the residue of a red-gold liquid clinging to the inside.

Hermione again picked up the scroll, hoping it would further reveal what she had gotten herself into.

"Lucius, listen to this... I think it's important..."

_verto of cruor promptus a phasmatis vinculum dissimilis ullus alius._

"The exchange of blood prompts a spirit bond unlike any other."

_Tantum diligo fatum mos presto vinculum quod suo._

"Only lovers destined will fulfill the bond and join."

_Ut occupo per phasmatis Astarte , qui imbibo ex rutilus vas es intemporaliter iunctus._

"As commanded by the spirit Astarte, those who drink from the golden cup are eternally together."

Hermione stood stunned. She, a victim of a god-only-knows how old spell, was blood bound to Lucius Malfoy.

"Bugger all..." She heard Lucius murmur from behind her.

She had no idea what she was going to do. They had no idea what they were going to do. She was blood bound to a man who had stood idly by as she had been tortured, and who had taken part in one of the most epic wars in wizarding history.

Lucius was suddenly beside her, looking over her shoulder at the scroll, seeing if he could possibly deduce a different meaning than she had.

"It's right. I know. Top of my university class in classics." Hermione said, nearly hysterical and indignant.

Lucius rolled his eyes inwardly. Did the chit honestly think he doubted that? His hope was that there was a way to break the blood-bond, a way to get her out of a marriage to a man she obviously hated.

"Hermione, how much do you know about pagan demons?"

Hermione's face immediately turned serious.

"Not much, I mean, I took a semester class on pagan and non-mainstream religion for fun but I don't remember much of it... What are you suggesting?"

"Not everything I say has to be an insinuation! I was merely suggesting that we remove ourselves from this chamber of seduction and see what can be found in the Malfoy library. I have never heard of this Astarte, but hopefully there is some book in the library that mentions her. Or him. Even myths we can dig up would be helpful."

At the mention of a look into the infamous Malfoy library, Hermione practically started to salivate. Books had been her constant companions, her friends, and her lovers since she was six years old. The chance to examine a library as old as Lucius' was enchanting.

"Let's be off, then. If the library is as extensive as I've heard, it'll take days, if not weeks to properly search the records, not to mention the stories. There should be information about the pentacle room in there as well... At least I hope so, for Draco's sake."

Hermione and Lucius (now fully dressed) walked to the door. Repeating their earlier ritual of holding two doors open at once and following Hermione's earlier spells, the were able to find their way out of the sinister six-doored chamber and into the damp stone of the main hall.

Lucius walked briskly, his long legs setting a pace that Hermione had to practically jog to follow.

They proceeded briskly through a maze of twisting corridors and halls that Hermione could not remember even if her life depended on it. At last, they arrived at the huge double doors (presumably) leading to the library. If the library could be judged on the doors alone, Hermione predicted a shortly upcoming literary orgasm.

Lucius flicked his wand and the doors swung open.

Hermione gasped at the beauty of the grand library before her. Large, vaulted windows allowed sun to stream in on oversized leather chairs and a reading table in front of a crackling fireplace. She walked into the center of the marble floor, inlaid with a green marble pattern of knotted snakes. The room was filled with dark cherry bookshelves and lit with gentle globes of light. It was a perfect reading atmosphere. Hermione walked to the end of one of the bookshelves and read the plaque on the end.

"Your library is big enough for the decimal system?" Hermione exclaimed, surprised and incredibly excited.

Lucius smiled. The seldom-used expression gentled his hard face.

"Draco proposed it several years ago. It has proven to be a much more efficient system than the way we filed before." he said wistfully.

There was a moment of silence, where both of them were undoubtedly thinking of Draco.

Hermione sighed. Even in a moment of joy, the reason for her trip could not be forgotten.

"So, Lucius, where do you suggest we start?"

They walked into the depths of the library, traveling towards the area that housed the Malfoy family records.

The smell of ancient dusty tomes and the glue of hand-bound spines (only the most intoxicating smell in the world) filled Hermione's nostrils. Eventually they made their way to the back of the library. Lucius seemingly reached _into_ a bookcase and it swung inward, revealing another room, with a desk, chair, and more shelves.

Lucius hid a smirk at Hermione's astonished gaze.

"The manor holds many secrets." He said softly.

Lucius looked around the room, selected several thick tomes, and handed two to Hermione. He sat in the chair at the desk and she stretched out across the floor, propping herself up on her elbows to read.

The first book was dark leather bound, hooked with a clasp of some sort. Hermione pressed the latch to open it and pricked her finger. The blood faded into the clasp and the latch popped open.

_Welcome, Indoctrinated Malfoy, _the title page read.

Hermione tried very hard to not freak out at the fact that this book had just assaulted her and recognized her as a member of the Malfoy family. Hopefully one of them would find a way to undo Astarte's bond. She most definitely did not want to be recognized as a member of the Malfoy family, however aristocratic and noble they may be. She flipped to the preface of the book, and read an intoduction seemingly written for her eyes alone.

_Welcome to the family, Hermione Malfoy, unwitting bond-partener to Lucius Malfoy. Over the course of this book instructions will be laid out for the proper wards to explore Malfoy Manor safely._

'Could've used that yesterday,' thought Hermione bitterly.

_These wards will enable the warder to protect themselves from the spirits and ancient novelties that lurk in the ancient halls. Every member of the Malfoy family should be instructed in basic ward drawing, included but not limited to typical repelling magic, drawing of proper capturing and summoning pentacles, use of traditional herbs for protection and summoning, and identification of spirits and demons._

Hermione's interest was very, very piqued.

_Chapter One: Warding one's person_

_Every person exploring an area tainted with dark magic should always carry the following:_

_-Sage and fire (for cleansing ceremonies)_

_-Salt (warding against demons)_

_-A silver blade (for chopping volatile ingredients or defending against night creatures)_

_-A rowan wand carved with protective symbols (depicted in the glossary)_

Hermione immediately flipped to the end of the book and looked for protective symbols. They seemed familiar enough that she knew she had seen them before, and not some cheap replica.

"Lucius?"

He started at the sound of her voice.

"Do you happen to have a ward-carved rowan wand?"

His brows drew together.

"My wand is not rowan, no," he replied, clearly missing the point of her query.

"No – here, read this." She picked up the heavy book and set it down on the desk in front of him with a loud thump.

His eyes darted back and forth as he skimmed the pages.

"I believe after we have gathered more information about what the six doors symbolize and contain, we are due for a trip to the family vaults, and the kitchens."

Hermione retrieved the book from Lucius and continued to puruse its pages.

She did not feel Lucius' burning gaze on her as her skirt rode up her legs when she lay down, the way it rested on the curve of her waist and the way the soft light bathed her hair and skin in a luminescent glow.

He shook his head and returned to reading. He must be going mad. A blood bond doesn't mean eternal love. It means an inconvenience.

Lucius flipped to the index of his book (titled The Legacy of Malfoy Lords).

"A... B... C... D... Da, dc, de... demon... pg. 464..." he murmured, thinking aloud.

The page had a diagram of a pentacle at the top, with individual parts labled (he filed that away in his brain for future use) and an alphabetical list of demons known to reside (or have resided) in or around Malfoy Manor. He ran his fingers down the list until he found Astarte.

_Astarte: A spirit-demon. Acts with malicious intent. Commonly found meddling in the affairs of love. Powerful, magical, and, when offended, deadly._

**A/N: Or maybe I will leave it at a cliffhanger. I need some help, yo. Let me know what you'd like to see happen next. It helps me write more, faster.**


	4. Chapter 4: In Which They Are Summoned

**A/N: My lack of updates were pathetic and inexcusable. I'm truly sorry. I cranked out this chapter in 15 minutes. More to come later today/early tomorrow morning. Truly truly sorry. Love you all. *cowers***

Burning heat everywhere – writhing, flaming, debilitating heat. He thrashed around, trying to throw it off, trying, somehow, to find the relief he knew would not come.

"_Temperature 41.5 degrees – cool him off right now!" _

"_Nothing is working!"_

"_Take off his clothes – cold air on his skin."_

A rush of cool, sweet, blissful relief – a start contrast to the swarm of hot pinpricks under his skin.

"_Temperature dropping."_

"_Shouldn't the stasis charm have kept his temperature down?"_

"_Where is Healer Granger?"_

"_Sent a patronus – no response."_

A crackle of magic and a distinctly female voice _"Apply localized cooling charms to wrist and neck. We are coming shortly."_

Intense cool applied to his burning skin, taken by his veins and spreading to his fingertips and toes. His head still burned, ached, and there was a weight in the middle of his chest.

The room looked on as Draco's right hand broke from his personal torture and came to rest, clawing at his heart.

The room was abuzz with activity, lesser healers and mediwitches and wizards making things as comfortable as they could for Draco without Healer Granger's knowledge of the case. Even with cooling charms, his temperature was dangerously high and no longer falling. He was still in danger, and all they could do was wait.

An exhausted, disheveled Hermione Granger practically sprinted into the ward, Lucius in tow.

"Lucius – wait in the visitor's area please. You don't need to see what he's going through in there."

Lucius ducked into the brightly lit room, folding his lanky form into a battered waiting chair.

Hermione was handed a clipboard and surrounded by mediwizards, simultaneously clamoring for her attention. She raised a hand for silence.

"One at a time."

"Healer Granger – His temperature was nearly 42 degrees. We removed his clothes and applied cooling charms to his neck and wrists as directed. The stasis spell seems to have worn off. . . It was being renewed every four hours, as you directed."

Hermione stepped into the room and cast her typical anylitical spell on Draco.

The copper fire was spreading – down from his heart to his shoulders, tendrils reaching into his legs and arms. It emanated a glow that, she suspected, was responsible for the failing of her staff's normally excellent stasis charm.

She sighed and rolled up her sleeves, after sticking her wand into the messy bun at the back of her head. For once in her life, she had absolutely no idea what was going on.

Shouts came from the corridor and the door burst open as Lucius strode in, shaking off the healer dogging his heels insisting he wait outside.

"Hermione. His hands. Have you checked his hands?"

Hermione glanced around. Her staff was looking at her with blank faces.

"You mean to tell me that none of you did a physical workup on him? Magic can only get you so far. It won't point out visible anomalies in appearance. You need to learn to analyze things not only with your wands, but also with your eyes and brain."

She moved to Draco's bedside and began to examine him with a clinical eye – honed through practice of looking at very fit, handsome and young quidditch players.

She uncurled his left hand – tightly balled at his side – and lifted it into the light more clearly.

There was a small puncture wound shining with the same bright copper fire that burned in Draco's heart and blood. Burned into his skin around it was a crudely carved Latin script – '_fit autem praevaricor signifier'. _

"The breaker becomes the bearer." Lucius said, from behind her.

She turned to see him standing so close he was practically touching her.

There was a silence before she wondered aloud what they were all thinking.

"What the hell does that mean?"

Lucius' brows knit together. "I have no idea. But I have a feeling it has something to do with the pentagram room."

Hermione began barking out orders to her staff – check the strength of the stasis charms, monitor temperature with regularity, renew cooling charms every hour and above all –

"Notify me IMMEDIATELY if there is ANY change whatsoever – Please, Healer Williamson, I need to know. Draco isn't out of the woods; whatever is attacking him is a serious threat to his life. If anything changes, even if you think it's subtle or a fluke, check it, double check it, and LET ME KNOW."

The healer, slightly shell-shocked by Hermione's vigilance, could only nod as her and Lucius apparated away.

They came out of the strange, stretching tube at the gate of Malfoy Manor.

"Lucius – Do you have an idea of something that I don't? I have no idea what this is."

"Due to your actions earlier when you tried to remove a bottle from the wall, I could glean that you know little about stereotypical supernatural forces? Demons, sprites, and the like?"

He took her silence as an affirmation.

"I believe, and he really should have known better – Narcissa and I taught him – that Draco has inadvertently released something that he should not, either that or lost control of something that he intended to keep."

"That helps very little, Lucius."

"Yes and no. While we have no idea _why _Draco pulled this sophomoric stunt, we can at least find out what he released. Don't raise your eyebrow at me. The manor has a very complicated filing and classification system for our artifacts, and I believe it goes even as far down as those rooms. Though it hasn't been touched for nearly centuries, there is probably a way to cross-index the current contents of the room with the contents the last time it was recorded."

He took the stairs up to the door two at a time – making Hermione match practically three of her strides to every one of his.

"TWYE!" He called. A small elf popped into the room just in front of the main stairs. "Twye, please fetch me the records for the low room – see if you can find one that lists the contents of the summoning chamber."

The elf bowed, and winked out.

Hermione sank into a plush armchair and cradled her head in her hands. "Lucius – I'm way out of my element. I work with 'impossible' cases, but I've never dealt with something truly supernatural before. I honestly have no idea what to do to keep Draco even at the state he is in, much less to fix him."

Lucius walked behind her and rested his hands on her shoulders, rubbing gently at the knots in her neck. "Kitten, I honestly doubt I have much more of an idea than you. The only advantage I have is the extensive ancestral library that hopefully can tell us more about whatever is haunting Draco than the experience you and I had."

Hermione blushed. She had been . . . Intimate . . . with Lucius Malfoy. She had nearly forgotten. It was like a sweet, brilliant, exquisite nightmare – a dream that in theory should delight her more than it should terrify her.

"Lucius – what are we going to do about that? From the sounds of it, after that ritual, we're bound to each other. Unless we can find a way to reverse it, we're basically married."

"We'll cross that bridge when we get to it. For now, this works in our advantage, allowing you to see some of the more secretive and dangerous parts of the manor, allows you to access the library, and most importantly, gives you an inside look at what may have hurt my son. He's the concern right now, dear. As wonderful as you are, I'm not half as concerned about my maybe marriage as I am about his life."

A crack announced Twye's return to the room. She carried with her a tome that was practically as tall as she was.

"Here is the list of bottles in the pentagram room, sirs and miss!" she squeaked. "Is there anything else Twye can be doing to help?"

"No, that will be all."

"Master Lucius – I's sorry for asking, but how is young master?"

Hermione answered for him. "We're doing all we can for him right now."

The elf nodded, and apparated away.

"They care about him?"

"Of course. I have made errors, but Draco has always been kind to the elves. They love him. Twye took care of him when he was a baby. They have a kind of bond."

He hefted the book the elf had left.

"There _has_ to be a way to see if these titles match up with the bottles."

Hermione thought for a moment.

"We could modify the point me spell. Instead of focusing on a direction, we could apply it to the book, and ask the book to point to the particular bottles that were missing. That way, instead of having to sift through thousands of titles, we would be directly pointed to the ones that are missing."

Lucius stared at her for several seconds, murmured something that sounded suspiciously like 'brilliant' under his breath, grabbed her and kissed her.

"Come on. We have work to do." He said rather breathlessly, a minute later, and dragged her down to the dungeons.

**A/N: Am I forgiven? Phew. That was some intense writing I just did. The sooner you**_** review**_**, the sooner you get to find out what happened to Draco and what (or who) he released. . . *cackle***


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